


In the Stangest Places

by Bremol



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremol/pseuds/Bremol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles catches Elsie doing dishes and well...it leads to them doing things in the strangest places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Stangest Places

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. That is all (well...and a bit of humor).

 

 

 

She stood with her hands in dishwater up to her elbows, scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot.  The action caused her hips to wiggle which in turn caused the man standing watching her to bite his lip to keep from giving himself away.

He couldn’t help himself.  Damn and blast the woman and her swaying hips and perfectly curved bottom.  And damn the person who’d come up with the new styles of women’s clothing.  Especially the tighter fighting skirts.  He’d had a hard enough time keeping his hands to himself when she’d been wearing all that black taffeta with the full skirts, but now…

Then he grinned.  He wasn’t going to keep his hands to himself this time.

“Charles Carson!”  Elsie gasped when she felt him pressing into her, his arousal obvious.  Her hands stilled when he moved against her, his hands gripping her hips.  Her body was reacting to his movements and she gripped the pot she’d been scrubbing for support.

“I can’t help myself, Elsie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.  “What are you doing scrubbing pots anyway?”

“Martha got sick so I sent her on up to bed and told her I’d finish and deal with Mrs. Patmore if she had a problem.”  Elsie managed to get out before moaning.  “We can’t, Charles.”

“We can.  Everyone else is in bed.”  Charles told her.  “It’s your fault, really.”

Elsie frowned even as her head fell back.  “My fault?  How?”

“Scrubbing that pot, your beautifully perfect backside was moving so enticingly.  I just couldn’t help myself.”

Elsie whimpered, the feel of his hands sliding down her legs and up under her skirt, pushing it up around her waist causing her to shiver.  “Sitting room,” she panted when her knickers fell down around her ankles.

“No.”  Charles nipped at her neck.  “Here,” he breathed.

Hearing the clink of his belt being unbuckled, Elsie swallowed as she waited to see what he would do next.  There was no way they could do, well, _that_ with her in this position, she wasn’t tall enough, but yet he hadn’t made a move to turn her around.  What was he planning?

Charles cupped her buttocks and kneaded, groaning his appreciation.  “What you do to me,” he mumbled.

Elsie rolled her eyes even as she squirmed under his ministrations.  “I don’t see why that particular part of me is so fascinating,” she murmured, gasping when she felt the hard length of him sliding between the cleft of said body part.  “Charles!”

“Oh god, Elsie.  Please, just…” he moaned.  “Please.”

Feeling her toes curl in her shoes, Elsie’s grip tightened on the pot.  Charles’ hands were strong and his grip hard but gentle against her hips as he moved a bit erratically.  Feeling one of his hands slide from her hip down between her thighs, she bit her lip to keep her cry from echoing through the halls and waking the house.

Wet, so very wet.  And hot.  All wet heat and need was what Charles’ addled brain told him as he slid two fingers inside her, curling them to give Elsie just the right amount of stimulation.  He was quickly becoming lost in the lust and pleasure his movements were bringing him, and knew that if he didn’t stop things would end way before they should.

Elsie grunted when Charles pulled away.  “Charles?” she panted.  “What is it?”

“One moment,” he mumbled as he fussed about.  “Here, step up.”

Elsie stepped out of her knickers then did as told and let him guide her, shaking her head when she realized what he was going to do.  “This is madness.”

“It is, but,” he paused as he lifted her skirt again and pressed into her.  “I can’t help myself with you.  It’s always madness.”

Elsie trembled as he filled her, whimpering at the feel of being stretched and the sound of his belt buckle tinkling, the feel of his pants against her skin.  He’d never taken her this way before, and the angle was different, but not at all unpleasant.  And there was something strangely arousing about the fact that he hadn’t pushed down his trousers and shorts.  Feeling him begin to thrust against her, she ground her teeth to keep from crying out as he inner muscles clenched around him.

Charles’ eyes were fixed on Elsie’s round buttocks as they jiggled with the slap of his flesh against hers.  The sight was going to be his undoing, he knew, and he reached around to touch Elsie where they were joined, not wanting to climax and leave her unfulfilled and wanting.

“Charles.”  Elsie hissed as she gripped the pot that was providing her with balance.  With each thrust of his hips, water sloshed about her arms, soaking the rolled up sleeves of her blouse.  She could feel her inner muscles contracting around him again, clutching at him each time he pulled away and thrust back in.  Her body quivered, her head began to spin, bright lights flashed in front of her eyes as she came, her orgasm making her bite her tongue to keep from being heard.

“Oh god.”  Charles groaned as he slammed against her wildly, his own climax burning through him as he buried his face in her hair, thankful for its thick fullness that muffled his grunts and groans.

Moments passed as they tried to calm their raging heartbeats and rapid breaths.  Elsie was the first to regain herself and squirmed a bit.

“Charles,” she breathed.  “The water’s gone cold and my hands numb.”

Charles moved off her quickly, his eyes watching as her skirt slid down over her buttocks and back to its proper place.  “Oh god,” he groaned.

Elsie shook her head as she stepped down off the small crated he’d found to give her more height then turned to look at him, wiping her hands.  “Charles Carson!  No.”

His eyes twinkling, Charles smirked at her.  “We could.  In my room.  No one’s on the other side anymore.”

Elsie rolled her eyes.  “You’re insatiable tonight.  We need sleep and I need to finish this pot.  Off to bed with you.”

Charles sighed and gave in, knowing she was right.  Quickly tucking himself back into his shorts and fastening his trousers then buckling his belt, he looked up at her and smiled.  “Tomorrow night then,” he murmured against her lips.  “Goodnight, Elsie.”

Elsie returned his kiss and patted his cheek.  “Goodnight, my man.”  Watching him walk away, she called out to him before he disappeared down the hall.  “No following me up the stairs tomorrow.”

Charles laughed happily as he gave her a roguish grin then hurried off down the hall, a jaunty tune on his lips.

Bending to pick up her knickers, Elsie shook her head as she stepped into them and pulled them back up.  The man was hopeless, but oh god she loved that it was she that made him that way.  Finished with her knickers, she turned back to the pot and began to drain the water, thankful that she’d actually managed to finish cleaning it before Charles had attacked her.  She grinned.  Oh yes.  That was exactly what he’d done.  And she’d enjoyed every bit of it.

“When are the two of you going to get married?” a voice asked from behind her, causing Elsie to yelp and jump nearly out of her skin.

“What?”  Elsie asked as she turned to see Beryl Patmore standing leaning against the wall, a knowing smirk on her face.

“You heard me well enough.  How many more times am I going to have to catch you?”

Elsie swallowed the panic.  “Catch us?”

“I know the man didn’t take your tongue, although after _that_ I’d imagine you’ve little of your wits left.”

“Beryl.”  Elsie hissed, her face scarlet with her embarrassment.

“Oh hush now.”  Beryl smiled at her friend and walked over to her, clasping her hands.  “I’ve not said anything before, and I’ll not be saying anything to anyone now.  Just be more careful.  And persuade the daft bugger to marry you so you don’t have to worry about being caught out in the kitchens at night.”

“What are you doing down here anyway?”  Elsie asked.

“I came down to get some tea for Martha in hopes that it would settle her stomach.”

Elsie closed her eyes.  “How much did you see?”

“Enough and no more than I’ve seen before.”

Squeezing Beryl’s hands, Elsie stared at her friend.  “Please don’t say anything to Mr. Carson.  He’ll be mortified and,”

“He’ll never know.  I know what would happen and I won’t be responsible for it.”  Letting Elsie’s hands go, Beryl patted her shoulder.  “Go on to bed.  I’ll finish with the pot.  It isn’t your job anyway.”

“I told the girl I would.”  Elsie raised an eyebrow.  “I do know how to scrub a pot.  I started off as a scullery maid.”

“Before you came to Downton, I know.”  Beryl smiled and winked.  “If I were you, I’d wear something loose fitting tomorrow.”

“Beryl!”


End file.
